Newspapers / Orange County Observer (Hillsborough, … / Dec. 22, 1883, edition 1 / Page 1
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fSftf. nm i i mm Established in 1878. HILLSBOROUGH, X. C SATURDAY, DECEMBER 22, '1883. NEW SERIES. VOL v. NO tit mi i i i ii in in in n W IV ill IF V :,, MA SOX'S liniDE. ' I. cur till lr;i.n time, sir, i, , fVatf ;! iUr!;.tmic. too; '. 1. ok a f.ricA-9, in H!;-k !.. a you po throngb, ' -la, Vi'tll. i .-. I ilU.rh to .. ti.e last f-tat. 'H hi ri-ht .; , o ro-m-l th: cur re a Hjrin; .... Mat-- n ci ;.ie.- iip U-JuLi. n sn"v J'.iil? N" ! !!' an engineer; .;,rn tr;" fa'l all lift' :.. , r f'T' ' tt- tn"S loitg FT r . r r . 1 ! ! - ':in,-Kr a wire, 'urtu r the mill Lamia ttruck 1 .iVirI :' r"w m the village, ! i ; . .; ! 1 1 iitivau'i H'ni. stxt 1 f a.arrUail irure'n ai hour, J": in tJ.'- i:uts'; friin (,.'.' r if. I'.-:.' t t:ji there ; I tiring d.n the nr'ht expriaa. ji .. !i L ;.ti in a hairy, Ai.'l wtat oil i.uuil ' r one, 'I : .-.kii,g of ii'.tliiii but Mry Ai.'l the train he hal to rnri. A: 1 Mary sat down by lh'- window J wait fi ti.e iiijj.t e.vj'n ;-.h; A: :. if !:'. hadn't 'a. ' l"Ue .0,, ; d been a widow, I gui.-s. Y- r it n U't'a' !v-en nufh milni'!it V.! !i -.- T : j ill ban. I.- ! !!. Kiii-e J . ,i u.i i- i'.mi, 1 1 'li unlit ii !t .in '. i : :t ; iii h ia tliif lii i 'c. J; fry Innnl 'i'Tii a-w.ikiii', A: i tftlit-H 'tthC-r WaiKO!!ltliillrOIIf A:.'i .: ! - ti .Mi fifUeii nJl.U'i S, i t; an. it wnnM be al.t'. i'. .n'.'.ii't ri.nie lii-re t C 11 u, A u.i.'' it wn'iliin't 'a dom . .(,, j, .t i nil.t.i (I 1 1 j i ;i litnti rn Ad-1 i:i;i i fi-r til'- lii i alone. '1 : !i 'A ' i c:tliif tin- l.iht epl (, hit" A: ! I'.i'i ;i mat-in' h' r climb! J.-.t ."! ii. M tl.: lillit. fli, A ..iiLiii' it a!! the time. i- I 1 : 1 1 1 haw tiie hinal. 4 U l i h- nr'ht epi h-t, ! l.i- M:ny ;ijn', k. in In r wi'd-lin lrvt I t . I !, tifl .in,.'in' l'..r ji-v. nr( l.'.i.hn' on to tin- Ji-lit - ! rcV ti.'- train ;yol-l.y, sir, .Mii-on'n-'ou t.iucto n riit. UnKTK IlAUfK. li- liii; UI.Y OF Till: (1LKN. In one. of the most .beautiful o New lin'iand'H shady dells, f:ir away from th" din and dust of tho city, musical uith the song of brooklet and bird, and fr.ierant with breathings of trees and Mowers, hidden almost out of sight by the old gray mountains, lies the f:lir lit tle village of (ilen. And in one. of its sunniest sp.-t, sheltered by elms of a ecu fury's growth, mossy itself. with un eoiutted years, over-run with luxuriant vines and embosomed in roses, stands the f.ury litlb cottage where dwelt the pride of the -village its fair young Lily art orphan from the hour of her birth, I lit so loved by her aged grandparents t hat the name hud never a meaning, r. iiutiful as the flower whoso name h" b. re was the Lilv of the Glen- and 1m.1v and-.shrinking in nature, too, bicathing out her sweetness in Ion el v paiecs, and coveting ever the lonely seat. s ircc more was she idolized in 1 1 1 - Imm. !! home whose lif.iaud light ai.d beauty was, than in cm ry other one of the -.t!t( red village; for wherever she Went l!.e carried a blessing, and from every Mm -shoM b.ae one, too, now from the trowing lij.sof a baby face, and then from the quivering ones of wrinkled age. 1'iire in heart, not dazJingly but softly I n'lliant in intellect, gentle and loving, f"r eighteen years the maiden had led that happy life wiAi only the good and true can know a sunny life, scarcely ilarkcned by a single cloud a flowery one, scarcely pricked by a single thorn a holy one, scarcely touched bj a single MM. Htt lnr Heart was saddened then, l irst one and then the other a?ed rela tive grew Mrk, and for mivny w eks they i i; side by. side on the same couch, ... iiiing in feverish dr am. Patientlv r.'.d tenderly Vltd the young grandchild i nr.se them, heeding their hlishtest isli, rind giving up cheerily tho de mands of her pulse, that she might be ver with, them, and striving with all love's earnestness to in them back from 1 " valley whose shades seemed vailing the in. And even in the last fearful hour, though her heart was som and bleeding, she calmed herself and snug in swu t, though tremulous strains, the hymn they akfsi for, that on the breath of music tki.ir son's might be wafted into heaven. Hut then, when all was over, her strength gnve way, and for weeks she Iny 1 ike a frost-bitten tlower; her cheeks like '. ew and her lips ;)icelss. Ytt, though H.one in the worht then, never had an t .v.ui i kinder and imre considerate -tfe. There was none in tho whole vil- 'Age that did not render her fome ser- vie. happy to pay luck a debt of Iwve, a-.d sad that Kmnirt be ptid in" fitch a y. Ami' when at length she recov ered, and on the arm of the griy -haired pi-tor, riowly passed up the aisle of the o.i:e ontircii to the seat that iiad In-en aeant for nearly u yrar. there went v.p 1 r every heart a thanksgiving to the 1 a!h, r in Heaven, and when h T sweet, -e like voice rose end fell iu waves of thrillin g melody, as she joined in the fr.ca.i old hymn, tears of joy streamed fe-t from ta.uiv eves, and whet; the r i(V v as Vt r, and the little group Jested out of the holy phc, mry right. V fiand was kindly clasped bj her, and f rom every lip there fell a blessjrjg. ? But one among them did not greet air, though his gaze followed her in tcDtly fr;iu tie moment she entered till glie 'tft. It was a stranger, a tourist, who, cbarmed by the rural beauty of the glen, had resolved as tho stage left him there on Saturday evening, to spend a few lays in rambling about in ennny spots and sketching its picturesque rivers; a highly-gifted, noble young man, dow w with a princely fortune, who, hav ing completed his collegiate course, had nought to do but while away his time in the iaobt agreeable way. 13ut, now, surft itcd with the pleasures'' of fashiona bhviife, he had turned away to .seek in communion with Nature and her true hi artt d children that congeniality for which his spirit had longed but had not found, either in his aristocratic homo or hin wealthy friends. n is mother had been one of those spirit nally organized beings to whom holiness of life and devotion to duty are as necessi tous as breath, and though spared to him but seven brief years, she so in wrought her nature into his that all the unfortunate circumstances of later years could not eradicate it the angel sung so sweetly in the fur depths of his bosom that the syren voices of temptation sounded to him ever like hideous dis cords. The proud lady who, ere two years had left their greenness on his mother's grave, was installed as mistress of her home, gave no affection to the dining boy, while his father, a stern, grave, taciturn man, though deep in. his heart there welled strong waves of passionate feeling, manifested them only by seeing that his temporal condition "was well cared for, and so he grew to manhood, tilled with affectionate yearnings, but with none to breathe them upon, and only uttering them upon the low grassy mcund where slept the gentle being who had given him life. Once indeed his spirit thought it had foiuid its mate. There flitted into the brilliant saloons of fashion a radiant young creature, who seemed the incar nation of a poet's dream, and whose spell soon bound the youthful Reuben. Hut ere many months the charm was broken. She proved but a gay coquette, and after toying with many hearts, final ly surrendered to wrinkled age, barter ing herself for gold. Reuben had be lieved he loved her, but when the dream was so rudelv broken, he found his heart was fetterless he had loved not her, but the creation of his own soul who he had fancied was embodied there. For a time indeed he scorned tTie other sex, but ere iong the vision of his own sweet mother came to him in such vivid light, that be felt he stained himself with sin to think even harshlv of those to whom she was bound by the ties of sisterhood, and he said within himself, ''I will seek hei counterpart, and finding it, be happy." So Tiord Hurleigh-like, he went about as a traveling artist, and in the wild or beautiful of nature, as chanced thy scene, his spirit drank in peace, and the angel in his heart sang dearer and more thrillingly. Such was he who, in tho little church of Glen, had watched so closely its frafl Lily. Her loveliness, ever bewitehingly delicate, was enhanced by the paleness of convalescence, and she seemed to the young man like one of those sainted ones of whom he used to dream when in his bovish sorrow he nestled on the couch where" his mother's spirit had de parted. There was no guile, ho felt, in those heavenly eyes, no mocking taunt would ever sing from lips like hers nay, there was a purity of soul visible in her very mien. "Who is she ?" asked he, as ho walked home- with the inn keeper; "who is that fair young creature who seems the adopted child of the church? She walk 'ifore us with the old pastor." "She has another name, but we only call her Lilv orthe Lilv of the Glen, a homeless girl now, without a relative on earth, and vet she will never want for anything, for, humble as we are, we will ever make nxm for her bv our hearths I and in our hearts, for she is an angel whom we cannot entertain without s blessing.:' j Tbe young man shut himself in his . ViMtin atui mused noon her. In his wild- tt dreams he had fancied nothing earth- ly so ethereal, and he felt that could he but elasp that fragile Lily to his heait its low murmuring moans would bo hushed forever. -1 The sunset flooded the Glen with bril- j jianov he stole forth again, and long- ! ine for silent communion with the human tow-erot who had entranced his soul, he turned from the pleasant village street and followed the banks of a Uttle stream that went singing along as though each wave was a nielodv. Whither it led Ire . . a V . a. V TL i Knew not, rui seeping me worn pain ne j found himself ere long opposite a little grave-vard, whose monuments had not h ! nig to arrest attention, but whose quiet beauty entranced one at a glance. Reu ben leaned with folded hands on the white stile and was soon lost in fresh thought. Memory carried him back to the day his mother died, and he saw himself again in childish grief, bending, half in wonder, half in awe, over the opengrave, and then kissing a white rose-bud. from a neighboring bush and casting it on to the coffin, and then he thought of the after visits he had paid it when it was green and flowery, and remem bered how many times ho had wished he could have slept beside her. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he leaned there; those holy tears which come un bidden to wash the heart of the dust that has gathered on its beauty. Suddenly he started. A low, sweet strain flitted by on the evening breeze, and to his highly-wrought feelings it seemed at first like the angel voice of her he mourned. But he soon rallied himself, and listeninir eloaelv. diaoamed that it came from a locust grove in a distant corner of the yard, and he felt intuitively that it was the night hymn of the Lily sung over the grave of her buried loves. ' ITe forbore to disturb the solemnity of the spot by seeking the acquaintance he desired, and so he turned from the stile, and passing on, threw himself on a bank of violets beside the stream, and was soon lost in delicious revery. 'A beautiful spring night, sir," said i mild voice soon, and starting up the voung man found himself face to face ivith the aged pastor, on whose arm leaned the fair young mourner. "You are a stranger, sir, I take it, here. I noticed you in church, and I should have spoken to you there, but I iiad no chance. We are plain, simple people here, but mean to do our duty, and if while you tarry I can be of ser vice, you may command me." It was a courteous greeting, not so much in words as in the fatherly man ner of the gray-haired man, and Reuben offered his hand warmly and expressed his thanks for the kindness, and as In walked back to the village with them. charmed them with his high-toned thoughts, and the three were each re gretful when the pastor's gate was reached. c "Let us see you here to-morrow," said he, as he led the Lily in, for she was his dove-like blessing, "or to-night, even, if apart from home, a family altar should be longed for." , "I have longed for it since my mother died," said the young man with a touch ing pathos. "Come with us then, sir. We have few forms, but we trust our hearts are right;" and he ushered Reuben into the little study, and for a while they sat here in the calm moonlight, not con versing with each other, but uttering as they chanced the holy thoughts which begged for an expression.' 4 1 . 4 At an early hour an jaged Jeffialie do mesttooteretf with flights, and djew a stand, to tie pastor's side.' "Se farnid" overthe libaves of Jhe family, Bible tilb he had selected a chapter, and then passed it to the young man, saying: "My eyes grow dim; let me borrow yours " Reuben took the holy volume rever ently, and read' iS clear, thrilling tones, those glorious passages from St. John, commencing: "Let not your heart be' troubled." When he had closed, the pastor turned to Lily for the hymn. It quivered on her lips, but the sacred emotions of her heart were too powerful for her weakened frame, and the words huhe there in uttered music. Reuben's keen ear bad caught the strain, though, and his rich voice harmonized fully with the lofty words as he sung it through. Then the aged man bent his knee and prayed. And. while he took in the whole World in his petition, he yet pleaded earnestly and individually for the gentle girl he had taken to his heart, and for the stranger who worshiped with them, and, subdued as his human feelings were, the young man. was yet conscious of a sudden thrill of joy when he heard himself thus coupled in solemn prayer with the beauteous Lily. Only snatches of sleep came to him that night; most of it was spent in revery. And when he went out on the ensuing morning, life wore a changed look g him. It had put on a majesty that awed him. and vet that roused him v to sublimer views. The divinity within him was aroused, not partially, but thoroughly, and he resolved to heed well its intuitive suggestions. He sought out the aged pastor and revealed to him his previous life, its longings, its ; "Yes, sir," replied Bxown, in his most aspirations, its unquietness, and his last j jxrnpous manner, ""at half-past 12 pre reeolve, to seek him out a bride who cisely." should give beauty and bliss to life. "When I saw Lily yesterday," said he, "the poet's charming story came vividly to mind, and I resolved to woo her as did the lord of the tale, in paint er's dress, and bear her to a princely hope when she expected but an humble cottage. Bat better thoughts have been awakesed in ne, I would still win her. if I can, but not to lead her into fash- ? ' ion's halls. They are not the pi place for one so spiritual as she. Home is the ! sphere for one like her, and I would win i her to a home with me, in this or some! other shady glen and keep her my Lily I through my life, "And this is not all, sir. I would learn of you a pastor's duties. My life thus far has been an aimless one. I need pot work, for I have wealth at my command, but I would consecrate myself to some thing. My spirit has ever ciiafed af the fetters I have thrown about it. I will untangle it, and let it have its will. And at your feet, sir, I would study earnest ly, faithfully, and pray that your Hps may ask God's blessing on me as I some where kneel before my chosen people." "My son," said the old man, solemnly, "you have chosen well. Heaven hath direcUd you here as a guardian for Lily and a student for fae. These fifty years I have ministered here, I knew my strength was failing and my senses grow ing dim, but I could not bear to leave my people with one who served their Master from other than the holiest mo tives, and so, tremulously I have per formed my duties for a year or more. My son, you shall commence this day your studies. . You are well trained and learned, and your heart is right. It will not take you long to fit yourself to speak to these simple, truthful Christians. 1 shall be spared to stana beside you when you first preach to them, and then I shall be content to go. Come, let us begin.'' And from that day Reuben was an in mate of the parsonage, and that he pros pered fast was no wonder either, for he had, as he said, an angel and a saint for guardians. There were scornful looks and haughty words in his aristocratic home, when his proud relatives heard that the heir of their princely wealth had turned student of divinity, and would settle in an obscure village, and there was much wonder among his fash ionable friends. But notliing could win the young man from his holy vows, and night after night till the stars waned did he lean over his desk, that he might the sooner be prepared for the pastor's place, his only reereation being, his walksjand talks with the gentle Lily. 1 wo years irom tne day ne nrst en tered the littlp church as a stranger to all, he was solemnly set apart to lr i holy work, the aged pastor's trembling hands being placed upon his head, as with quivering lips he ordained him a Christian minister; and the same low, lute-like voice thai entranced him then, sang now the hymn that confirmed the rite. At sunset, the holy Sabbath sunset, the little church again was filled, for before the altar stood the youthful pastor to take a new vow to his heart, one that bade him "love and cherish till death did them part," the gentle being who unconsciously had woke his soul to tho sublimer view of life a vow that, while it changed the "girlish aing" to a pastor's bride, yet left her, as she was before, the Lily of the Glen. Dead Reckoning. Lieutenant Brown was the navigator of the brig Perry of 14 the United Statea navy a good many years ago, and on a passage from China to Mexico he al lowed the chrobometers (by which they found the longitude) to run down. They were bound to San Bias, and running to make Cape St. Lucas, which is high and A can be seen a long way off. The cap tain, Jot Stone Paine, was not told that the chronometers had run down and that they were depending on dead reckoning for the longitude. Brown got on the parallel of the cape, and steering duo east kept a'good look-out ahead. He kept a foretopman at the masthead with orders to come down and tell him quietly when he saw tho land, and not other wise to announce it promising him a bottle of whisky in return. Accordingly one day shortly before 12 o'clock the foretopman came down and reported the land in sight from aloft. He was told by Brown to return to the masthead, and when the bell struck one to report it in the usual manner. A Ijttle after 12 o'clock the captain cajne oxit of' the ! cabin and said: Well, Mr. Brown. when do tou think we will see land?" "We will inakettho land, sir," said i lirown, "at half-p: Ft 12 o'clock," (one j bell) "We will, eh?" said the captain. Just then the bell struck, and the nan at the masthead" roared out in 0 stentorian voice, "Land ho '." "By George," aaid Captain Jot, "that's the most recarkable landfall I ever made !" and he afterward told thu first lieutenant that he considered Rrownoneof thGinoM skillful navigators he had ever met 1 .Vx)t Pleasant Reading. " The barbarous custotn prevails in cer tain States pf letting out convicts to the highest bidder, to whom, for the term of his contract, they are as veritable slaves as any negro way under the old regime Mr. Geo. W. Cable, the novelist, made it the theme of his eloquent denuncia tion at a late meeting in New Orleans, and from Arkansas comes an instance of it3 practical working which justifies ths worst that can be said against it. One Sharp, arrested for owing $1 board money was fined $10 by the judge. Not baviug the money, ho was sent to jail, whence he was taken by one of the con tractors in flesh and blood. In six davs the latter had whipped him to death. A coroner's jury found a verdict of wilful murder. The contractor wife arrested and immediately discharged on straw baiL It is hard to say Which is the fitter subject for indignation : the law wliich condemns a man to slaverv for a debt of SI, or the inhuman wretch who takes advantage of it to murder his help less victim. j The sickening outrage is nearly paral leled by a late occurrence in a Georgia town, where, a woman sentenced to sweep tho streets in the chain gang for some trivial oflenoe, and pleading sick ness as an excuse, was, by orMex .of the magistrate, tied to the tail of a cart and 10 dragged to the place of punishment. AT THE END OF A WAR. Trick PInyciPVy th Itrltlnh when They were Javlng- ttttn Country. A never-to-be-forgotten incident oc curred when the American column, headed by General Washington and Governor Clinton, approached the Bat tery as tho British army left it, at the close of tho Revolutionary War. Lieu tenant Glean had been ordered by Com modore Grinnel to raise the American standard on the fstaff where the English ensign had been heretofore flying. The evening before the British had unreeved the halyards, broke off the stepping cleats, and slushtd the flagstaff. The flagstaff stood on Fort George, at tho north end or bastion, close to the Bat tery, Several men tried to elimb the Staff, Whlcn wiu s elipierj m ioo, but in vain. A young sailor boy named Van Arsdale made three attempts, got up about three feet and slipped down again. Then Beveral persons ran to Goelet's hardware store on Hanover square and goi a handsaw, hatchet, gimlet and nails. One sawed lengths across a board, one split tho cleats and another brodtbem until there was plenty to use. Tne sailor boy tied the halyard around his waist, rilled his outside pockets full of cleats- and then began at the ground to nail them in on the right and left of the flag stall. As he ascended higher he nailed the cleats on, and then, reaching the top, he rove the halyards and descended. The flag was immediately run up, amid a salute of thirteen guns and three than dering cheers from tho multitude nssem Wed. Tho time spent in preparing to T liiof ttin flofy xl-a a o rmrirwl of intpnnA I . . . , rn v :; interest and suspense. The English , . , , , spreading their canvas to the wind, and it was passionately desired to let them see the American standard waving over the city before they left. The sailor boy was given a more substantial token of approval than mere applause, those present, from General Washington down to. the plainest citizen, cheerfully con tributing to a collection for his ljenefit. The son of tho sailor boy David Van Arsdale is now a night inspector in the Barge Office in New York. Another incident, related by an eye witness of the scene, may serve to illus trate the relnctane with which tho British 'quitted their hold of the city which they bad bo long claimed as their own. By tho conditions agreed upon the city was to be surrendered at noon, but an impatient shopkeeper- in the neighborhood of Chambers street an ticipated the arrangement and hoisted tho American flag during the course of tho morning. Provost Marshal Cun ningham hate3ed to the spot anJ con fronted the proprietor. "Pull down that flag," he exclaimed, with an oath; "the' city belongs to "the' British till noon." The man objected, herniated, and was on the point of yjelding, when the gol woman of the house came to the rescue. "Tne flag shall not come down," said she. Cunningham fcrraeei and swore, and finally attempted to tear down the colors with hisown hands; but the woman -assailed him so vigorously with a broomstick, striking a clond of pawner from hi wig at every blow, that he waa forced at last to abandon the field 1 and leave the American flg unmolested. i He that does not know those thing I to know, is an ignorant man, whatever he raajdiiiow U-tides. NOTES AMD COMMENTS. Tins xs Ttt i QCTSsno? that troubles a Freiicn Justice of the Peace. A drover and a butcher in the market adjusting their accounts went to a tavern to dmo together. Dnring tlio eai the hotelier took from his pocket a bank nolo of 100 francs value, wherewith to pay tha drover, lni In handing it over let it fail in a dish of gravy. He snatched it oyit, and holding it letween a thumb 'and forefinger, waved it to and fro to dry it. Tho drover's dog accepting this move ment as a friendly invitation, and liking the smell of the saturated note, made a spring at it and swallowed it' Th ' butcher was furious. Givs me my money," he demanded. "Kill tho dog and open himV "Not ly a blanked sight," replied tho drover ; " my dog U worth more than HX francs. " Then I owe you nothing. Your dog has col-' lected for you Wforo witnesses. " My dog is not my cashier. And beid, where is yonr receipt?" "The Justico will have to settle this." "Let hint. And now for weeks tho 'Justice has been seeking law or precedent for Mich a a case, and the townsmen have u ou tho verge of a riot over it again and again. At A reunion of the origiual Alxdi tionists in New York, tho story was told " alut an attempt to break up the meet ing at tho Broadway Ta!emacle fifty years ago by Capt Isak Rynders. Tho captain, who is now about bO years old, says tho story told was not true, and, says: " I got mad at Garrison becau'so ho was an infidel, and ho made some blasphemous remark alont Jesus Christ. He also used some insulting language aboalJPi5i'8ident Taylor. I would not listen without protest to their blasphem ous language. I did jump on tho plat form and grab Garrifcon by the collar, and I did say to him, ' If you say that again I will throw you off the platform, and I would have done it., I wan not afraid oi anybody in those days. I had no gang with me, and as for any organ? ized attack on the , meeting, there wat none, except what was done by ma alone." . A notable drunk kd who recently died In Taris in his seventieth year kcrH a record of his potations for half a cen tury, so that mankind have an opportun ity of estimating the amount of abuc which a phenomenal organization in able to endure. His daily allowance of wine wa four bottles, so that in fifty years l-.i emptied a total of 73,000 bottles. He' could never, eat until, he had tnkerVa dram of absinthe, and a he had thre meals a day ho must have swallowed 51,750 drams of that poison during tho fifty years. But in addition to all thi$ he found it convenient to drink daily about twelve small glasses of liquor, or a f otal of 2H,000glasses in the half centtiry. His oldest acquaintauces declaro that they never saw him jerfecily sober. , A flue career certainly for this nineteenth century of grace 1 A Cuicago ilckma", who has a plcaa- ant face and winning ways, ha, accord . a a1 . - ' ' 1 ing to . the Lhwayj Herald, gainer 40,000 from his business in th past ten years. His eye falls on a country maji getting out of the train fo make his first visit to the city. The hackman engage to show the stranger around town for a dollar. Ere they reach, a clothing stow he has persuaded his customer to buy a new suit of clothes, and then the two must necessarily go to a hhomakc r's in get boots to match. And so tho hack man trots his man around until the city has lcen been, and tho rural visitor feW grateful to tho man who has taken s much 1 ains with him. In the evening the haekman goes to the traders and draws his commissions. The census of 160 gives the U tal population of Austria and Hungary at 37,7&6,21G, of which number 22.1 i 41,21 i Itfclong to Austria and 15,042,002 to Hungary. Iivided into nationahtie, the population of the two countri ym iists, in ro,und numlir, of 10.000000 Germans, 7,000,000 Czechs and Morav ians, 0,200,000 Magyar. l2rtt.0UQ!rro CroaU, 3,300,000 Puk. 3,200,000 P.uth enians, 2,500,000 Roumanian. Slovenians, and CSO.OOO Italian. Cl- sified according to their religious tew.ii, there are 20,753,1 fJ Cstholim of the Roman, (Jreek, &jkI OrienUl Churchy, 3.450,tt- Qrthodox Greeks, .2.150.W Protestant of the Helvetic oonfesion, l,4.r),000 Protectant of the Augsburg confession, and l.Q-tO.OO1) Iwraelitw. Ha Bio. Over tho door of a sma:i imam building in which a colored family is living ia GreenTiJia, Term., is pic board on which the gead,'xow, al most erased by rain and aturm,"A- John aon, Tsilor, A UUla'beyotd the west ern border of the town ia ar1 marble ' monument thaVsxarka the last home of I "Andrew Jbhmon, Prfside&t of &9 Usltttl StaH 5.
Orange County Observer (Hillsborough, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
Dec. 22, 1883, edition 1
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